After selecting a perfectly engineered man, Victoria Scott discovers that being in a relationship with a bot is hard. Especially when he can't even get your name right.
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Loneliness is ultimately what drove us all here. But for me, it's also because Scarlet should have a caretaker while I'm at work. She isn't adjusting to her new environment well.
I sit in a colorful waiting room with a slew of other quiet people. We try not to meet each other in the eye. We try to look busy, browsing through the holograms projected on our forearms.
After I press the iBand around my wrist, a transparent screen comes to life, projecting every pinned app along my forearm. I mindlessly click on my favorite one and remember that I forgot to share the picture of Scarlet and me enjoying the springy weather at our new condo. It's the one where she's perched on my shoulder, her feathers splayed like she's posing for the cover of Vogue, and I'm in my cute, metallic cami with my dark ruby hair rolled up into a voluminous bun, sipping coffee on the top floor terrace. I had asked one of my neighbors to snap the picture from their iBand and then after just three quick taps of our wrists, the photo was mine.
I share the photo with the world today, typing the caption, Our new view is PERFECT!
Over a dozen 5D emojis immediately flood my notifs—all various acquaintances from around the world. It feels good. I didn't get this much attention from yesterday's drone delivery rant.
Eventually I'm swiping through different media stories until the breath in my lungs goes stale. A co-worker of mine, Lyla James, also just posted a picture on ConNekt. Her ring finger blocks most of her face and the diamond has obviously been filtered to look more appealing. Begrudgingly, I respond with a 5D heart just like everyone else.
I take a deep breath before the sadness crawls up my throat. I refuse to have a breakdown in a bot clinic. How cliche.
This is why I'm here, I remind myself.Even if some people think it's unnatural, a lot of people are doing this nowadays. Celebrities. The work-obsessed. Even the religious protests have died down, accepting that this is better than a lifetime of episodic loneliness. Besides, I can't back out now. Already paid the first installment fee.
"Victoria Scott?" The receptionist calls. I snap my head up. "She's ready for you."
I collect my purse and press the iBand; the glow on my forearm disappears.
Here we go.
For better or worse, I always let my mother talk me into things.
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Author's Note
Thank you for giving this short story a try! I appreciate any feedback to help make the story better. And a double thanks if you liked it so much, you voted!
Question: Would you ever go to a bot clinic if it became normalized? XD
